


Of Break Ups and Brotherly Affection

by AOrange



Series: Fruity Rumpus Afterlife Road Trip [21]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Meteorstuck, fruity rumpus afterlife roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AOrange/pseuds/AOrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't call Rose over to talk about this shit. You called her over to give her something nice for a change, and all she wants to do is talk about your disintegrating relationship status. You're sick of everyone's bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Break Ups and Brotherly Affection

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

TG: yo rose  
TG: i need you to come over here a sec  
TG: and dont fuckin tell anyone else i asked  
TG: or else ill have to kill yall

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]\--

You stare at your IM window with its mix of pesterchum handles and trollian accounts, and you're reminded of how fucking alone you are in the universe. Karkat's online but he's idle, and so is Kanaya. He was your first choice to pester because you're kind of in the mood to piss him off, but kind of not really prepared to deal with the fallout when he inevitably takes it as black flirting again. Gamzee's been idle for over a year, and even though Terezi's online you're not going near her window with a ten foot pole. John and Jade have been offline since you first checked your chumroll after realising you were stuck on the meteor, along with all the other trolls. 

You could go for a conversation with any of the trolls right about now, because they'd at least be a welcome respite from the bullshit that's going on. Even a dream bubble would be okay. You'd have to get up, and you'd have to find some pants, but at least it'd be something to do. Come to think of it, you should probably find some pants anyway because of the whole inviting Rose over thing, but your jeans are lying halfway across the room and you've got headphones around your neck and it seems like it'd be too much effort for too little gain. 

She points out as much when she enters. You explain your predicament in the most detailed way you can.

DAVE: you feel me  
ROSE: Not really. Why have you requested my company this fine afternoon?  
DAVE: because karkat still thinks that me tellin him to go fuck himself is black flirting  
ROSE: That's because it is, to him.

You roll your eyes at her, a not so subtle attempt at telling her to go fuck herself, to which she simply rolls her own eyes and sits down cross-legged on your bed. 

ROSE: Do I have to guess why I've been summoned to the Fort of Strider or are you going to tell me?  
DAVE: oh right  
DAVE: yeah  
DAVE: i want a favour  
ROSE: I'm not doing your laundry for you. Clone a full month's worth of clean underwear this time.   
DAVE: thats not what I was going to ask little sister  
ROSE: We're basically twins, Dave.  
DAVE: i hit the atmosphere first  
DAVE: therefore  
DAVE: older brother  
ROSE: Get on with it.  
DAVE: number one  
DAVE: over on that shelf theres somethin i alchemised for you  
DAVE: not even joking  
DAVE: brother of the year here  
DAVE: gets his little ectosis a present and it aint even her birthday

She raises a quizzical eyebrow at you and you don't blame her for doubting this one. You shoo her in the general direction of the shelves and she slides off the edge of your bed, the hesitant look still on her face. You understand that expression - last time you told her you had a gift for her it was made out of old faygo cans and orange juice cartons, and was definitely not worthy of her time. It was still faygo-sticky when you gave it to her. 

But this time, this time, you've done something right. Her eyes light up for a moment and she runs her fingers lightly over the object, hesitating again, and you assume it's because she's waiting for the catch. She turns back around to face you and raises her eyebrow again, just the corner this time, but it's enough to make your lips twitch into a patented Strider smirk. 

DAVE: what youre just going to stare at it  
DAVE: im guessing thats a good one  
DAVE: because i used more grist making it that i use in a week making doritos  
DAVE: and you know how many doritos we go through around here  
DAVE: so what  
DAVE: best present or best present  
DAVE: give me somethin to work with here

Before you can start on another spiel of bullshit, she's leapt back across the room and thrown her arms around your neck, and you're wondering how you never thought of this before. Two birthdays, two Christmases, and you never thought of making her something she'd actually like. 

DAVE: seriously  
DAVE: you can let go now  
DAVE: your knee is kind of diggin right into my thigh  
DAVE: and it hurts  
DAVE: seriously   
DAVE: thats enough touching   
ROSE: Shut up, dear brother, and accept the gratitude.   
DAVE: so ill take it you like it then   
ROSE: That is an unbelievably accurate assumption for the boy who can't accept a thank-you hug.

She lets go, but not before slapping you upside the head. 

ROSE: So what's the catch?  
ROSE: I'm assuming there is one.   
DAVE: no strings rosie  
DAVE: no strings attached  
DAVE: get it   
ROSE: That was possibly the single worst joke you could have gone with in this situation, and I'm feeling slightly ashamed for you since you're apparently incapable of processing that emotion yourself.

She's got the violin in hand now and she's turning it over and over to examine every square inch of the instrument. You feel something in your chest, despite Rose's words, and you think it might be pride, but a different kind of pride than you usually feel. Pride never really felt like this back home because you never really achieved anything that lived up to the look on her face right now. Sure, occasionally you gave Bro something cool for his birthdays and at Christmas, but you always felt that he never liked the gifts as much as he let on - but that was something you always put down to the fact that if you could think of something awesome to give him, he'd probably already owned it at one stage in time. 

But right now, this feeling deep in your chest is definitely pride, and Rose definitely likes the gift. She loves it. She's still running her fingers over the strings and staring at the light as it reflects off the varnish, this awestruck expression on her face. You did good, kid. You've done something nice, and you realise it's probably the first official Nice Thing you've done as an older brother. There's some sort of achievement in that, you think, and you stop yourself before you start feeling so great about this that it loops around to being selfish as shit. 

ROSE: I'm still waiting for the catch.   
DAVE: theres only one catch  
DAVE: and its one hundred percent easy  
DAVE: so easy  
DAVE: the only catch is i want you to play somethin for me  
DAVE: it doesnt have to be right now  
DAVE: but soon would be good   
ROSE: That's it?   
DAVE: yeah   
ROSE: That sounds like a catch in itself.   
DAVE: its not  
DAVE: all you owe me in exchange for that violin is one little bit of music  
DAVE: whatever you want  
DAVE: ladies choice  
DAVE: i mean i want to record it  
DAVE: but ill sort that shit out  
DAVE: all you have to do is play  
DAVE: deal   
ROSE: Those do sound like adequate terms and conditions, yes.   
ROSE: I'm going to need a few days' practice if you plan on recording my attempts. It's been quite a while since I've played, you know.   
DAVE: yeah i feel you  
DAVE: take a few days  
DAVE: a week  
DAVE: ive got nothing on

And that is straight up honesty. Other than your pre-scheduled strifes with Karkat, you have absolutely nothing planned for the next three hundred and ninety-four days. You haven't done anything for the last week as it is, except lie around either in your room or the common room. The common room, in your opinion, has the better tv, but when Karkat insisted on reading you one of his shitty novels aloud because YOU'RE A PIECE OF SHIT THAT IS NEVER GOING TO WRAP HIS THINKPAN AROUND THIS ONE WITHOUT GUIDANCE you figured it was better for that to happen in your block where no one else had to deal with him doing the fucking voices for the characters. 

He enjoys storytime a fuckton more than you do. It took him three afternoons to realise you'd been wearing earbuds and not listening, but when he did figure it out he started the piece of shit again. From the top. With even more emphasis on the voices. You'd made a big show of sliding off your bed to the floor in pain, acting like you were dying, but he'd just started reading louder because he knew you'd just come back if you did die. In the end, you'd given up and let him read and now you're pretty fucking sure that the main characters' matesprit is fucking her moirails' kismesis' ex-matesprit, and you're pretty upset by that. You don't know what it means, or who all those fucking people are, but Karkat told you to be upset by this turn of events, so you're upset. 

It's been four days, eight hours, three minutes, and thirty-three seconds since you last saw Terezi. You last saw her in Can Town and she'd been all smiles and teeth, in between speeches about upholding the law and wondering which scalemate had caused the most havoc and needed to be hanged in the town square. Everything as normal. She'd kissed you, and she'd tasted like chalk, green chalk, and you're not sure how you know that but you do. She'd kissed you and it was no different to any other time she'd kissed you except your heart just wasn't in it anymore. You'd been letting it all drag on for a while, but when she'd kissed you four days, eight hours, four minutes, and forty-two seconds ago, you knew it was over. The bruise on her forearm had been bad enough, but then you'd seen the bite mark on her shoulder - and it was one hell of a bite mark, you could see where each tooth had broken the skin - and you needed to get as far away from her as possible. You'd absconded not long after the kiss, with a quick bye tz and a wave, then you'd hit the transportalizer like a motherfucker. You'll tell her eventually, or she'll figure it out. You're hoping she figures it out before you have to tell her. 

ROSE: Is there anything in particular you'd like me to practice?   
DAVE: nah anythins good  
DAVE: seriously  
DAVE: whatever you want  
DAVE: too easy   
ROSE: Are you okay?

It's a good question, you give her that much. Are you okay? Probably. You're alive. You've broken up with your alien girlfriend even though she doesn't know it yet. You're pretty sure Karkat's gone pale for you but you're not into that shit, and he doesn't know that yet. No one knows fucking anything that's happening on this meteor but you don't blame them. Rose probably knows, but she's Rose fucking Lalonde and that's reason enough it itself for her to know everything that's happening. You've hesitated too long now and she's going to know that everything is slowly going to shit, so you just spin your stool back around and face your laptop and open pesterchum and jegus fuck you're sure Rose is glaring daggers into the back of your head. 

DAVE: rosie i am so fine  
DAVE: the weather girl couldnt predict how fine i am  
DAVE: im so fine your moms best china would still be way less fine than me  
DAVE: yeah  
DAVE: so fine  
DAVE: are you fine

She purses her lips and sets the violin down on your workbench. You swivel the chair again so you're facing your bed and put your feet up on the edge, to her left, so now she's effectively trapped on the top half of your mattress. So she's not really trapped, because it wouldn't take much to go around your legs, but you feel like you've lost complete control of the situation and you need at least a little of it back. 

She picks up one of your pillows and wraps her arms around it, tightly, and rests her chin on it as well. You hope she doesn't notice the pale, pinkish, stains that you can see from where you are. Karkat ended up as such a hilariously blubbering mess four chapters back that he'd taken a three minute, twelve second break from reading aloud to wipe his face and threaten to slice your ear off if you told anyone. 

ROSE: I have no idea what you're talking about.   
DAVE: let me clarify that for you  
DAVE: how many times have you been falling over yourself  
DAVE: duckin into the bathroom  
DAVE: turning as red as karkats blood whenever kanaya looks at you  
DAVE: completely fuckin shitfaced  
DAVE: this week  
ROSE: Twice.  
DAVE: bullfuckingshit rosie  
DAVE: try every day  
ROSE: No, not bullshit, it's only twice.   
ROSE: You only asked about the number of times I've been in a position where I'm at a complete loss for how to use my fine motor skills.   
ROSE: That was only twice.   
DAVE: and the rest of the time  
ROSE: I don't think that really matters to you.   
ROSE: How many days this week have you sat around in your respite block, in your underwear, eating Doritos with Karkat?  
DAVE: oh man dont put it like that  
DAVE: that sounds gay as balls  
ROSE: So start wearing pants again.  
DAVE: never

She's got a point but you're not about to tell her that. It's not much of a point when you think about it because for once she's probably on the losing side of an argument - even she's got to realise there isn't much comparison between eating too many chips, and budding alcoholism. She gets that wry grin again, the one where her lips only just move and the rest of the gesture is in her eyes, the grin where her eyes glaze over a little and you're sure she's reading your mind. 

ROSE: So what do you do in here all day that isn't, in your words, 'gay as balls', that also sends Karkat into fits of tears?   
DAVE: what   
ROSE: He's left tear-stains in four places I can see from here, and I'm assuming there are more that I just haven't noticed yet.

She indicates the pale marks on the pillow first, then waves her hand towards your sheets and one of the cushions on the couch. 

ROSE: The situation, as it stands, implies that Karkat visits your respiteblock at least somewhat regularly.   
ROSE: You have countless glasses stacked around, at least twenty five, and not all of them are yours because I can see scratch marks on some that are only caused by troll claws and teeth, neither of which you possess.   
ROSE: You, on the other hand, have recently developed the habit of forgetting to dress yourself when you wake up, even when you have plans to leave this room.   
ROSE: But still, you sit there trying to tell me that spending days locked in your block, in your underwear, with Karkat, while he cries, is not 'gay as balls'.  
DAVE: shut the fuck up rose  
ROSE: I'm just teasing, I know that you're undoubtedly a one hundred and five percent entirely heterosexual Texan man.  
DAVE: sounds about right sure  
DAVE: but talking about you now  
ROSE: I'm not finished.  
DAVE: yeah you are  
ROSE: Actually, I'm not. I haven't made it to the most important part of all this yet, the single factor that lead to these afternoons spent in the company of the grouchiest troll we've yet encountered.  
DAVE: hes not that bad  
ROSE: You're not really helping your case.  
DAVE: just get to the point  
ROSE: Why haven't you spoken to Terezi in a week?  
DAVE: its only been four days eight hours and  
ROSE: I'm going to stop you there, because now you're just going to get defensive, but the point is you've been actively avoiding her with your self-imposed grounding, and you haven't responded to any of her attempts at contact.   
DAVE: its not really any of your business  
ROSE: It is when she comes to me crying about it.  
DAVE: she what now

You didn't sign up for this conversation when you asked Rose to come around earlier. You asked her to come over so you could give her the violin, and so you could convince her to let you record her playing something. That was it. You didn't sign up for the Spanish fucking Inquisition about your relationships, if you can even call them that. You don't want to talk about Karkat fucking Vantas and his shitty troll-story time afternoons, and you especially don't want to talk about the fact he's going to turn up in exactly eighteen minutes if the last three afternoons have been anything to go by. You especially don't want to talk about Terezi and her goddamn kiswhatever with the fucking juggalo and the fact it makes your stomach twist and contort like you're getting fucking seasick, because the fact is every time you see her trollian go online you want to throw up, and every time she sends you a message or an emote or even that fucking >:? face you actively have to hold down the vomit because all you can see is fucking Gamzee grabbing her by the throat and throwing her across the room, because you're sure that's how it starts, every time. 

Your legs slip from the edge of your bed and you stand up, ripping the headphones cord out of your laptop and almost send the mac straight to the floor. You grab the upturned bucket from under the bench, leftover from the last Halloween prank, and you're thankful it wasn't on the other side of the room. 

You can't suppress it this time, and you hurl. Rose, for what it's worth, moves to sit beside you on the floor, patting your back as you let loose a second time. She removes the headset from your neck and untangles the cord from your arm, with a little prodding, and sets them down on your stool. In between the coughs and gags you hope that you look at least pathetic enough for her to realise she went too far. Because she did, you decide, she went so far that now you're sitting on the floor throwing up, alone, because she's stood up and you don't know why but you're not sure you want her to hang around much longer anyway. Then, she's sitting opposite you, trying to force your head up and out of the bucket, and when you do sit a little straighter, she slips your shades off and you realise that she's adjusted the lighting in her absence from the floor. At least she did that much. 

ROSE: What did you say to her?   
DAVE: whys it gotta be something i said

There's not even the slightest hint of irony in your voice anymore. Why is it automatically your fault? You didn't say anything to make her cry. If anything, you should be the one crying because of what she's done. Okay, you're crying a little bit, but that's because the corner of a Dorito is digging in to the back if your throat where its lodged itself, not because of anything Terezi's said or done lately. You're sure this one isn't on you, it's on her, and her fucking cheating on you with fucking Gamzee of all the fucking people on this hunk of rock, and there it is, another round of blowing chunks courtesy of that thought. 

DAVE: i didnt say anything  
ROSE: I think that's the problem.   
ROSE: She's upset because you're not talking to her and she thinks she's done something wrong.   
DAVE: she fucked gamzee  
DAVE: id say she fucked up pretty badly  
ROSE: Not in her culture she didn't.   
DAVE: do not give me the quadrants talk again

Rose is rubbing small circles on your back but it's not helping anything. She's not prepared to hear your side because she's accepted that troll quadrants are a real thing and as a result, you're automatically in the wrong. You want to remind her that even she didn't even know quadrants existed a year ago. That if you were still on earth, the quadrants wouldn't even be a thing. That if this kind of thing had happened on earth you would have gone and seriously fucked yourself up by strifing with Bro until you were bleeding out, and only then would you stop long enough to patch up the wounds and keep going, because that was the only thing that had ever completely cleared your head. There is nothing on this meteor that requires so much of your attention that your mind goes blank. Nothing. Maybe if you could drown out the fucking ticking of the goddamn flow of fucking time you'd be a little less agitated, but as it stands, you're getting the blame for something you didn't even do. 

Time. You're not in any state to go fucking around with the timeline so you do the only other thing you can think of to get Rose off your back. 

DAVE: do me a favour   
ROSE: Depends on the favour.   
DAVE: in the box  
DAVE: up there  
DAVE: beside the oj carton from last week  
DAVE: box of captchalogue cards  
DAVE: i got one for ginger ale  
DAVE: i could really go for a ginger ale right now   
ROSE: Fine. But you've got vomit on your shirt so if you abscond, it won't be hard to sniff you out.

She just looks down at you - there it is, pity - then takes the card and leaves the room. Before the door has even clicked shut you're fumbling for your iPhone despite the backlight burning your defective retinas. 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]\--

TG: dude abort   
TG: casa di strider is closed today  
TG: shits going down right now  
TG: and sorry bro but you turning up for storytime right now  
TG: will put me through a whirlwind of shit with that dear nosy sister of mine  
TG: dude  
TG: are you there  
TG: oh fuck  
TG: youre gonna be early today arent you  
TG: just my fucking luck  
TG: i am hella covered in vomit right now  
TG: so much vomit  
TG: theres something like half a bucket of vomit as well  
TG: my block is off limits yhear me   
CG: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU SHITTING ON ABOUT THIS TIME?  
CG: WHAT EVEN IS SO BAD THAT ITS GOT YOU LYING IN A POOL OF VOMIT?  
CG: DAVE, ARE YOU HUMAN DRUNK AGAIN? YOU KNOW THAT SHIT NEVER ENDS WELL FOR YOU. DON'T YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?  
CG: THAT'S IT, I'M COMING DOWN THERE TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO SOBRIETY BECAUSE FUCK THIS FOR A JOKE.   
TG: dude did you read anything i just said  
TG: i am so covered in vomit right now its skipped hilarious and wrapped right around to sad  
TG: seriously bro  
TG: dude   
carcinoGeneticist [CG] is now an idle chum!   
TG: oh jegus youve left already havent you  
TG: karkles  
TG: shit  
TG: you hate that name  
TG: fuck  
TG: if thats you coming down the hall now  
TG: consider this a warning  
TG: that i will get human drunk again just to blow chunks on you while you sleep

You hit the sleep button and skid your phone across the floor so it's under the edge of your bed and therefore out of mind. You'll deal with the fallout later. 

Or, you'll be dealing with it now, apparently. You only just manage to get your shades back on before the door is thrown open with all the subtlety of one Mr. Vantas. 

Karkat looks pissed. 

Then he looks a little put off, then disgusted. He recognises the bucket from Halloween first but picks up the scent of the puke and wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO THE PLACE? DID NO ONE EVER FUCKING TELL YOU THAT HALF DIGESTED CHIPS ARE NOT USUALLY INVOLVED IN THE REDECORATING PROCESS?   
DAVE: did you just sass me bro  
DAVE: the amount of sass in the comment was of the fucking charts  
DAVE: shit man  
DAVE: im so proud right now   
KARKAT: SHUT THE FUCK UP. WHY ARE YOU SITTING ON THE FLOOR WITH THE CONTENTS OF YOUR STOMACH ON THE OUTSIDE OF YOUR SHIRT?  
KARKAT: AND THE SAME STUPID SHORTS YOU WERE WEARING TWO DAYS AGO?   
DAVE: bitch youre keeping tabs on my underwear changes now  
DAVE: not cool dude   
KARKAT: YOU SHOULD PROBABLY CHANGE THAT SHIRT BEFORE IT DRIES. YOU DON'T WANT TO TRY GETTING THAT SHIT OUT OF YOUR HAIR AGAIN.

He's leaning against the doorframe, book tucked under one armpit and a smug grin on his face. He's enjoying this far too much. His forearms are folded over his chest, casual as shit, and you're suddenly filled with so much fucking regret because you can't help but think that you had a pretty big hand in turning him into five feet six inches of walking sass. Regret, but also, for the second time today, pride. 

Pride.

Rose. 

Rose fucking Lalonde will be back any minute. Rose will be back any minute and her reasonably genuine sisterly concern for your condition will be crushed by her curiosity for the fact Karkat has a trashy romance novel in his possession. 

DAVE: look either fuck off  
DAVE: and ill tell you when you can come around  
DAVE: or sylladex that shit right now and dont mention it  
KARKAT: WHAT?   
DAVE: sylladex the fuckin book and you can stay alright  
DAVE: just shut the fuck up and let me do the talking

He doesn't look happy about your request but he never looks happy, and you couldn't give less of a fuck. You're out of fucks to give when it involves him. You do, however, have fucks left to give about Rose, and you give him one final glare from behind your shades and he gets the message. The book disappears with a small pop four and a half seconds before Rose is suddenly standing beside him. 

ROSE: Karkat.  
KARKAT: LALONDE. YOU'RE COHERENT TODAY, I SEE. FOREGOING THE SOPORIFICS FOR THE TIME BEING?  
ROSE: Still an asshole, I see. Albeit an asshole who is clearly spending far too much time around my idiot of a brother.  
DAVE: hey are you forgetting the fact i just gave you the best present of your life  
DAVE: and its not even our birthday or anything  
ROSE: I never said it was the best present I ever received.  
DAVE: oh come on  
DAVE: you hugged me and everything  
KARKAT: YOU HUGGED HIM LIKE THAT? HE'S SITTING ON THE FLOOR LIKE AN ILL WIGGLER WHO DESERVES TO BE CULLED. HE'S WRAPPED AROUND A PAIL OF HIS OWN VOMIT AND I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHY HE'S HOLDING ONTO IT AS IF HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT. HE'S COVERED IN THE VOMIT AS WELL, JEGUS FUCK LALONDE! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN WANT TO GO NEAR THAT? HE'S WEARING VOMIT, HOLDING VOMIT, LOOKS LIKE VOMIT, AND HE HASN'T EVEN CHANGED HIS STUPID LITTLE SHORTS IN DAYS.  
ROSE: He knows how long you've been wearing a specific pair of underwear? Now that, dear older brother of mine, is what we in the business call 'gay as balls'.   
ROSE: Here's your ginger ale, by the way.  
DAVE: bluh  
DAVE: just put it on the desk  
ROSE: You'll probably want to change your shirt soon, and I think you've got a little splashback in your hair.  
DAVE: dont even bro  
KARKAT: DON'T EVEN WHAT?  
DAVE: exactly  
ROSE: You'll want to shower soon. Vomit dries hard.  
DAVE: charming  
DAVE: its your fault anyway  
ROSE: Clearly this is a conversation we can continue later.   
ROSE: Talk to her.   
DAVE: i cant do that  
ROSE: Yes, you can.   
ROSE: Thank you for the violin.

She adds the thanks after a short pause. You watch as she trades the cans of ginger ale for the violin, but you also notice that she quickly clutches the instrument to her chest when it's back in her hands. 

ROSE: I'll leave you two to your completely heterosexual boys' afternoon.   
KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN ON ABOUT NOW? NO, KEEP YOUR WINDHOLE SHUT, I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW.   
DAVE: remember i get to record that shit when youre happy with it   
ROSE: Of course.

She waves over her shoulder as she brushes past Karkat in the doorway, and he leans back to watch her walk away. He straightens up a minute later but doesn't move until you both hear the faint woosh of the transportalizer around the corner. 

KARKAT: YOU'RE DISGUSTING.   
DAVE: youre not even trying anymore are you  
KARKAT: WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?   
DAVE: i dunno man

You tip your head back to rest on the edge of your bed. There's still someone practicing kickflips in your stomach but you're sure as shit not about to bring that up with Karkat. It was bad enough with Rose and you didn't even explain the whole story to her. She heard what you said and inferred the rest of the story. She probably got most of it right, too. You cough up the Dorito corner and spit it into the bucket and reach out to retrieve your phone from under the bed. You check pesterchum and it's only 2.43 seconds before you wish you hadn't. It's there again, her >:?. That's it. 

You can't believe a stupid fucking emoticon is capable of sending your face right back into the bucket again. 

You can hear Karkat making noises of disapproval from the doorway and you make an effort to flip him off, you really try, but it's just not happening. You can hear him shuffling around the darkened room, kicking things aside, until he's crouching opposite you where Rose had been earlier. 

You're not sure which one of them you'd rather avoid for the rest of your immortal life. 

DAVE: youre in my bubble   
DAVE: again  
DAVE: three feet is a good distance  
KARKAT: SHUT THE FUCK UP, STRIDER. YOU'VE CLEARLY INGESTED TOO MANY OF YOUR DELICIOUS EARTH DORITOS OR SOMETHING.   
DAVE: yeah man  
DAVE: too many doritos  
DAVE: exactly why im sick  
KARKAT: YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT TURNING YOUR GUTS INSIDE OUT BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T TOUCHED A VEGETABLE IN AT LEAST A PERIGEE?  
DAVE: can we call that the reason  
KARKAT: YOU KNOW I DON'T ACTUALLY GIVE A FUCK. I'M JUST SAYING THOUGH, YOU REALLY DO NEED TO USE THE ABLUTION CHAMBER BEFORE THAT SHIT DRIES INTO YOUR HAIR.   
DAVE: hold this  
KARKAT: WHAT NO, DAVE, NO, STOP THAT!

He eventually accepts the bucket and the look on his face is priceless. He's disgusted, holding it out as far as his arm will reach and he's deliberately looking anywhere else in the room. You drag yourself up using your bed as a support and take it back before he can start flinging it around. The last thing you need right now is that mess all over your workbench. 

DAVE: i didnt want to kick it over okay  
DAVE: thats it  
KARKAT: I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.  
DAVE: look im going for a shower  
DAVE: ill be back soon  
DAVE: you can stay here if you want but to be honest  
DAVE: it smells like puke  
KARKAT: AND SO DO YOU. WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

You make a move to leave your block but when you reach around to pull the door closed, your hand smacks into Karkat's hip because jegus he's following you out of the room, why the fuck is he following you? You don't think you've ever snapped your hand away from something so quickly, not even the time when you woke up under a pile of smuppets, and Bro had been filming that. As pissed off as you'd been about it, Little Dude Sure Loves Smuppets had over five thousand views on YouTube last time you'd checked. 

Little Dude Flips His Shit At Shower Full Of Smuppets had over seventy thousand. 

Man, Bro was an asshole. 

You raise an eyebrow at Karkat but the effect is ruined by your current state and he just glares back, because what else is he supposed to do when a teenage alien covered in vomit glares at him? You sigh, but continue walking and yeah, yeah he's definitely following you. You could say something but you don't really want to draw any attention to the fact he's following you to the shower. You're just going to lock him outside anyway.

You stop outside the bathroom door. Karkat had enough sense not to say anything on the walk even though you're sure he wanted to, because you could hear him scraping his claws together and occasionally getting that look on his face, the one that meant he was planning on unleashing the motherfucking king of all righteous speeches. You're half tempted to throw him a party later as a congratulations for learning to shut the fuck up without being told, but he'd probably take it the wrong way. 

DAVE: yeah this is your stop  
DAVE: line ends here  
DAVE: remember to take all baggage with you  
DAVE: shit left behind will be incinerated   
KARKAT: WHAT.   
DAVE: dude youre not comin in with me  
DAVE: this entire ablution chamber is off limits to trolls for the next sixteen minutes  
DAVE: i dont want to hear you clawin at the door  
DAVE: or shoutin things  
DAVE: sit on the floor here for all i care but you are not comin in  
DAVE: if it was up to me  
DAVE: i wouldnt have to see any of yall assholes for the next three hundred ninety four days  
DAVE: so fuckin let me wash this fuckin vomit out of my goddamn hair in peace would you

You slam the door shut behind you in case he didn't get the message. You flick up the lock with your free hand and finally, finally, you're alone again. You drop the bucket beside the bath to deal with later because fuck that, and then sink down to the floor beside it to get your sulk on in peace. 

To his credit, Karkat only kicks the door once that you hear. You assume he's stormed off to bitch about you to Kanaya again. 

Your pocket vibrates. You don't even remember putting your iPhone in your pocket, but there it is, and it looks like you're popular as fuck right now. Everyone wants the Strider. Yeah, that sounds about right, you can't think of a reason why they wouldn't want you. 

You close Terezi's window without looking to see if she's sent you another attempt at contact. 

Rose's is next. She's just reminding you to Talk to Terezi again, but there's a photo attached of her clutching the violin to her chest while she strokes it and you know she's not even trying to be ironic. You ignore the comment about Terezi, but you do flip your phone around and take a photo of yourself pulling a stupid face complete with a definitely ironic hand gesture. It looks ridiculous, but you send it anyway. You appreciate a good selfie. You lost most of your good ones when the meteors hit. 

There's one from Karkat as well but all it says is FUCK YOU, TOO. 

A message from John wouldn't go astray right about now. Man, that'd be sweet, if you somehow managed to connect to their network and get in contact with them, yeah. You'd almost be able to pretend everything was back to normal. You'd be able to talk to Jade, too, that'd be awesome. But they're still both offline, and you weren't expecting that to be any different. 

You sigh, feeling as pathetic as you probably look, and get back to your feet. You head back across the room to dim the lights before you remove your shades, then toss your phone onto the sink. You peel off your shirt, careful not to spread the puke or to get any on your face. It's bad enough it's in your hair. So Karkat had a point, you're pretty disgusting right now. 

Twenty eight minutes, forty two seconds later, you're lying in the ablution trap with your feet resting on the faucet. It was a pretty swish move, adding more hot water with your toes, and it's kind of depressing that your life has come to calling that a pretty swish move. You spent a good three and a half minutes scrubbing your scalp clean under the running shower stream because no way were you leaving your hair in that state. But this, this is alright. Maybe you'll just lock yourself in the bathroom for the next week. 

Your phone chimes from the counter. 

You reach up for it, because sending Rose a selfie from the bath will be hilarious and you should totally do that later because she'll probably choke. 

Fuck this day. 

Fuck this fucking day. 

You quit. 

You're going to stay in the bath until your fingers are prunier than juice at an old folks' home. This is happening. There's even clean clothes in the bathroom so no one can complain that you smell after this. You're going to be here here so long that you hit the new session. So long that empires rise and fall on whatever planets are left. So long that Karkat stops being an asshole and you know that's never going to happen. That's how long you're going to be in this fucking bathroom. 

And when you get sick of sitting in an ablution trap full of your own filth, you're going to lock yourself in the common room because that's where the good tv is, and that's literally the only thing you can find yourself giving a shit about right now. There's couches and blankets and you know you've got food that doesn't need to be in the fridge all the time, and you're going to ascend to the highest level of the sulk echeladder in record time because fuck everything. Fuck your entire fucking life, fuck aliens and their stupid fucking culture, and an especially big fuck you, past Dave, for thinking that any of this shit was a halfway decent fucking idea. 

You hear the smash when your phone hits the bathroom mirror. You don't remember letting go of the cell but you must have, because the evidence is right in front of you. The phone is in the sink somewhere, probably broken. The sink is covered in shards of glass and you can't help but think of the time when you broke the bathroom mirror back home because you were trying to take a swing at Bro while he was shaving. The mirror was broken, and had stayed broken for about eight months, until you'd fucked up at school again and CPS were dropping around for another look at your home life. No one's going to fix this one though. It'll just stay broken until you're all kicked off the meteor, you're sure of it. A whole thirty seconds to clone one of the others and even that's too much real work for any of you, just to repair an ablution chamber mirror. 

It says a lot, you think, that you don't give a shit about broken glass in the bathroom. You're officially out of fucks to give, you decide. 

Dave Strider has no fucks left. 

He's done. 

Game over. 

\--gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]\--

GC: HEY MOTHER FUCKER.  
GC: little lady says you won't get your motherfucking talk on with her.  
GC: AND I AIN'T UNDERSTANDING WHY.  
GC: i'm not out to destroy what don't need destroying.   
GC: TALK TO HER MOTHER FUCKER.  
GC: it ain't all on her.  
GC: IT AIN'T SOMETHING SHE CAN HELP, NEITHER.  
GC: it's black, brother, beautiful black.  
GC: BUT SHE NEEDS HER RED TO KEEP THE MOTHER FUCKING BALANCE.  
GC: i'm not sorry, motherfucker, but i ain't about to call it off.  
GC: AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU.  
GC: :o(


End file.
